Love So Soft
by Arwen Thandiel
Summary: Crowley is feeling gentle... R&R if you can stand it. Been out of the game for a bit. Wondering if I've still got it (Shamelessly fishing for feedback...check)


Love So Soft

While it wasn't his typical style to be gentle, Crowley wasn't invested in typicality. It was tacky. After all, how best to keep your enemies and allies of guard than to explore all expressions of behavior seemingly at random. He was a good king. Not because he was just or fair, but because he had rules. Rules with reasons holding them up, proud and powerful as the arches of the Colosseum.

And so, when one little bottom-feeder of a demon wanted to break his reverently constructed rules, the fucker was going to suffer. But suffering can be accomplished in myriad ways. And Crowley could do all of them. But that was beside the point. This random fool, this…Guy…Guy? Who the fuck's name is Guy? That's like naming a dog, Dog. But to the point, Guy was going to suffer for breaking the Crossroad's contract rules. 10 years no more, no less. NO MANUFACTURED FUCKING ACCIDENTS!

Example, indeed. Moose and Squirrel Winchester had kindly if a bit bemusedly handed the idiot over and now Crowley had work to do. Waving his demons off the two hunters had been an easy enough agreement. Leviathans where right up there on his shit-list, just below Lucifer himself, though they were clearly the more immediate threat, for now.

He couldn't help but notice the brothers' frayed edges; Sam's exhausted, haunted eyes and Dean's brittle control over his infamous impulsive temper. Honestly, Crowley wasn't sure how much longer the two of them would last without Castiel to soften their landings when things went sideways. Wasted resources if you asked him but he wasn't the stupid fucking Angel gone power-tripping on Leviathan snot.

Anyway, back to…Guy.

The sniveling little puke was shaking in the chair opposite Crowley's desk, his fear stinking up the room. Well then, at least the King's reputation was intact.

"Guy…"

"Yes, sir?" The demons voice was quivering and if he weren't so distracted, Crowley might be epically pissed off.

"What have we learned today?"

The silence that followed his carefully patronizing question made the Scotsman want to rip the demon's spine out through his mouth.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" Crowley took a deep breath, centered himself and asked again. You see? Gentle.

"Today, was an important step in your education. We all make mistakes, some bigger than others." Another breath and a brief closing of his eyes to stem back an influx of rage. "But what's important is that we learn from our mistakes. Isn't that right…Guy?"

The King of Hell's voice had deepened and softened as each word left his lips. His proximity to Guy closing until the two were nearly touching. Crowley's face inches away, hands gripping tight over the top of Guy's delicate wrists and squeezing them into the armrests of the ornate waiting chair he'd placed. Both men could feel bones grinding together, skin beginning to heat with pain and friction.

Guy could barely breathe. It wasn't the pain that stole his breath away, or the threat that made it impossible for him to think. It was the awareness of what Crowley was capable of. His inability to predict what was going to happen next sent his brain spinning into a million different unbearable scenarios, making it impossible for him to answer a simple question.

"Guy, your silence is disappointing."

In the space between the last two words, the King squeezed Guy's wrists and drove them down into the armrest, shattering the bone and rending an agonizing wail from the younger demon.

"Now there, the silence is gone and yet, still nothing useful is coming out of your pretty little mouth. What do you think I should do about that, Guy? I do like to involve my employees in the training development process. Empowerment is a sign of good leadership. Don't you agree?"

This time, the question was lobbed from across the room while the Scotsman poured himself two fingers of Craig. He was half way through savoring the first sip when Guy earned himself a death sentence.

"Sam Winchester moans your name when he gets off."

Two fingers of Craig were immediately wasted as Crowley instinctively threw the tumbler directly at Guy's face, splitting it open and embedding fragments of alcohol-soaked crystal into his forehead.

If it were still possible for him to get headaches, Crowley would surely feel one now begin to form behind his right eye, just as they used to when he was human.

"Get the fuck out."

The guards made quick work of leaving their posts and Guy, poor poor, Guy was dumb enough to make a motion to leave right behind them. A quick wave from the last man out the door was his only warning that he'd made yet another mistake before demonic power wrapped around him and threw him into the black cherry panel wall on the other side of the room.

The next thing he knew. The shards of crystal in his face began to warm and he realized he had very little time to please his King with his next answer before the shards would become hot, then scalding, and then melt.

"The why," he gasped desperately attempting to formulate thoughts around the pain.

"Continue." That was all the reprieve he was going to get.

"I learned that to make good decisions I need to understand and believe in the 'why' behind the rule. I doubted you and your rules, found a loophole and didn't realize the damage I was causing because I didn't understand the 'why'."

Crowley seemed to be as surprised be the clarity of his thought as Guy was.

"Good. We're making progress."

Guy tried to smile timidly around the breakage and must have failed miserably because the elder demon gave him a vaguely concerned and then disgusted look before moving back toward the Craig,

 _Oh fuck_ , Guy thought. _Another tumbler._

"Now, just how much damage do you think you caused?"

Oh shit.

"I…. I don't know, sir."

The Scotsman hummed in agreement.

"Of course not, because you weren't paying attention. None of your damage was intentional so it was boundless, unspecific…inelegant." The last word was hissed and nearly sexual in its delivery almost giving Guy the impression there was a sexy way to disobey his King. Elegantly? Specifically? Within the bounds of reason? Interesting.

"What do you think the consequences of such pedestrian behavior should be?"

 _It's a trap!_

"I don't know, sir."

Crowley rolled his eyes, he'd made short work of the next tumbler of Craig, but the glass was still held menacingly in his hand.

"Of course not," he groused. "You don't seem to know much."

Not a good sign. The tumbler was placed gently on the desk. Maybe…?

"Meg is still out and about, irritating me."

Oh shit, not that scary bitch.

"Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to hunt her down, and bring her in alive."

Crowley's smile was charming, and Guy stumbled mentally over "choose".

"And if I _choose_ not to?"

Smile gone, fuck.

"Well, Guy. You can stay here with me and we can discuss various management techniques. I'd love your honest feedback on my style. You know, areas of strength, things I could…work on?"

Fuck that.

"I accept the Meg mission, sir. I apologize for my failure. It won't happen again."

The smile was back but this time it was more reminiscent of staring in to a powered down woodchipper. Apparently safe for the moment, but what if someone turned it on while you were nearby? Better to just fucking steer clear.

"How lovely, off you go then!"

Guy was half way out the door before, picking at the crystal in his face before he realized 1) it wasn't coming out and 2) it was still getting warmer.

"Don't take too long, dear. I'd hate to see you distracted."

Guy nodded shakily. Find Meg before the crystal in his face super-heated to melting temperature. He could feel one piece pierced his skull. Others had embedded into bone.

This was going to suck…example, indeed.

Back in his office, Crowley absently rubbed a thumb across the lip of the empty tumbler. Frankly he was a bit put out that the set was mismatched now. He'd have to have it replaced and find three more good reasons to break the rest of the set. That shouldn't be too hard given that it was only Tuesday, and this was how his week started.

 _Sam Winchester moans your name when he gets off._

Crowley scoffed.

"Should have killed him just for that bit of bullshit right there. Clearly, its Dean that moans my name, and when he does it's because _I'm_ there, making him say it…"

Speaking of Dean, didn't Crowley say he was feeling gentle? Time to go pay his pretty hunter a visit. He was looking far to brittle for comfort…


End file.
